Bariyan Kozar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stonefaith) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2012-02-16 10:51 pm
stonefaith) wrote in exsiliumlogs2012-02-16 10:51 pm
[closed]
Date & Time: Backdated to evening of 2/12
Location: Back in the armory again.
Characters: Bariyan e Kodhi (stonefaith), Problem Sleuth (armistyx)
Summary: Too much alcohol and too many sharp pointy things all together in one place. [Completed: Bariyan and Sleuth swordfight and Sleuth cuts Bariyan's left arm off. Bariyan laughs, A LOT. It's stupid.]
Warnings: STUPIDITY, with a generous dose of DRUNKEN AMPUTATION
Okay, so he's a little bit drunk.
What.
Is that even fucking possible? He's a, a, a zombie, for heaven's sake, you can't, you can't get a corpse drunk. That's not physically possible. Of course it's also not physically possible for a corpse to walk and talk and start having an existential crisis courtesy of cheap wine but, well, there you have it.
He'd wandered back to the armory. Drinking had made him remember that there were all sorts of interesting things back in the armory that he hadn't the time or inclination to look at when they'd first dragged him through, or even when he'd gone in again with Artika. And, hell, he has nothing better to do right now.
But instead of looking, Bariyan finds the nearest wall to lean up against. Then he takes another drink from his bottle. And gets depressed. Zombie. Him. Dead and cold and so on, stuck in a completely new universe which he doesn't know about and can't get out of and so on, home universe is even shittier than and filled with unpleasant people and so on, and...
Bariyan scowls at nothing. Fuck this line of thought.
Location: Back in the armory again.
Characters: Bariyan e Kodhi (
stonefaith), Problem Sleuth (armistyx)Summary: Too much alcohol and too many sharp pointy things all together in one place. [Completed: Bariyan and Sleuth swordfight and Sleuth cuts Bariyan's left arm off. Bariyan laughs, A LOT. It's stupid.]
Warnings: STUPIDITY, with a generous dose of DRUNKEN AMPUTATION
Okay, so he's a little bit drunk.
What.
Is that even fucking possible? He's a, a, a zombie, for heaven's sake, you can't, you can't get a corpse drunk. That's not physically possible. Of course it's also not physically possible for a corpse to walk and talk and start having an existential crisis courtesy of cheap wine but, well, there you have it.
He'd wandered back to the armory. Drinking had made him remember that there were all sorts of interesting things back in the armory that he hadn't the time or inclination to look at when they'd first dragged him through, or even when he'd gone in again with Artika. And, hell, he has nothing better to do right now.
But instead of looking, Bariyan finds the nearest wall to lean up against. Then he takes another drink from his bottle. And gets depressed. Zombie. Him. Dead and cold and so on, stuck in a completely new universe which he doesn't know about and can't get out of and so on, home universe is even shittier than and filled with unpleasant people and so on, and...
Bariyan scowls at nothing. Fuck this line of thought.
no subject
The third, he says aloud.
"Holy mother of god!"
Sleuth clutches his hair, knocking his hat off sideways and leaving a smear of blood on his temple. "Buddy, Scarecrow, your arm! Oh holy shit you're gonna die and I'm gonna be fuckin'—executed or somethin'—fuck I need a drink. Jesus Mary and Joseph. What should I do? Are you—okay? Should I go get a doctor?"
He stares at the arm like he can imagine it back into place.